Even if you try, with every fibre of your being, to cling on to hope…eventually at some stage, you will break, even just a little.

Well that's my experience anyway and recently, I’ve been struggling with hope.

I’ve been praying, I’ve been trying positive affirmations; I’ve been “putting it out there” and trying to keep hope alive.

But then, this thought crept in to my mind.

It started niggling away, quietly at first. Until, one day it shouted so loud I couldn't ignore it and the words echoed around in my mind - like the more times I heard it, the more I would believe it.

"MAYBE I DON'T EVEN WANT A KID ANYMORE"

I mean….what the actual?!?

Who IS this person saying this?

What happened to the ‘me’ who used to feel that my main reason for existing was to be a Mum?

The teenager who had already planned her life because she imagined she would be married and have (or be having) a baby by the time she was 21.

The one who always imagined a large family and the biggest problem would be deciding when to stop.

Where is she?

If that me could hear these thoughts in my head now, she would slap me. She would hate the thought of a life without the joy a child can bring.

But this me?

She’s tired. She’s emotional. She feels the weight of every month’s disappointments. She struggles to push aside that darkness that creeps in to proclaim that perhaps actually getting to have a living child is not an option.

This me senses that giving up might just be less painful than pushing forward – even though pushing forward could actually lead to success.

I feel like I have changed so much. My view of life, the world, people. Everything. I’m not the same person I used to be – and I’m not sure that’s entirely a good thing. Yes, there have been some learning curves that have been positive through all this. But overall, I feel disconnected, displaced, misunderstood, unable to even figure out who I am and what I feel. I feel confused – and even more so every time I hear of a new pregnancy. It’s that age-old bewilderment of “Why do I not deserve this?” or, even harder to swallow, the thought of why someone else deserves it more than you.

Bitter is something I never wanted to be.

It’s not something I want to be now.

I’ve experienced loss in many ways in my life. The other main life-changing way for me was the loss of my first marriage to divorce.

The loss of trust in what and who a husband should be and what a marriage should resemble (I know all marriages are and should be different, but surely there should be some at least lowest standard that no marriage should ever dip below). Even through all of that, I was adamant that I was not going to be bitter. About marriage, towards my ex-husband (even though many others expressed their disgust and words that could encourage bitterness in my heart), or about love and life in general. I was adamant that I would still hold out hope for that love that I was dreaming of, the love that I knew I deserved.

Yes, life sucks sometimes. It isn’t always ‘rainbows and unicorns’, as the saying goes. But in that situation, I somehow always knew that things would be better. I could already see that I was better off without him and that toxic situation. I was able to absorb my thoughts in the clichés that others offered – because I believed them and I knew that they would eventually come true.

And they have.

I no longer mourn my first marriage.

But with this?

This is different.

This is harder.

This loss, this grief, it never goes away.

The babies I’ve lost can never be replaced with something better.

Also, the grief is not just for the lives that are lost.

The grief extends beyond even the concept of giving birth and having a child.

The grief extends to suddenly being faced with the real possibility that something you’ve always thought was possible, or even a 'given' or a right, might actually be the complete opposite.

The loss of that naïve mind where there was no consideration that even just getting pregnant would be a challenge. Let alone staying pregnant.

The fact that now I may have to just accept that this is my life.

Yes, I know there are options and of course adoption is an amazing opportunity if that is where this path leads us.

But, for the old me – the me who felt so deeply from such a young age, even down to the tiniest molecule of my being, that I was born to be a Mum…….this idea is devastating.

The thought of not being able to carry my own child to full-term and watching them grow up…..it is absolutely soul-destroying. I mean, who am I then? What is my purpose for living if not to be a mum? Could young me have gotten it so absolutely wrong?

Perhaps that’s why my mind is trying to get into damage control mode preemptively.